The next day I decided to explore the Tatras from the Slovak side. The border was only 20km and soon I was in Slovakia enjoying a different perspective of the mountains. On this side they are higher and rise straight up from a flat green plane.

After an hour, I reached a town called Tatry-Štrbské Pleso. It looked a smart Alpine ski resort town in France or Switzerland. Since I had set off a bit late, nearly all of the usual parking spaces were already taken. The only place left was the car park of the Kempinski Hotel. A sign at the entrance announced that they charged a very steep 30 euros a day. With no other choice, I drove in and had a stroke of luck – the machine that issued timed entry tickets for the car park was broken, and the hotel’s reception said that I could park for free.

The town was located on a mountain lake. A path leading around the edge seemed to be a popular outing for visitors, and also offered some nice views of the mountains.

After strolling around for a bit, I set off on my main walk – out of the town and a short way into the mountains to another, smaller lake. It was pretty but not very demanding – which was fine, since I was feeling rather lazy. Maybe another day I will try one of the more strenuous routes from Štrbské Pleso, some of which go right up into the High Tatras – including the climb to Mount Rysy on the Polish border, the highest point in the Tatras mountains.

I ate my sandwiches by the side of the lake before heading back to the Kempinski, where I invested the saving I had made on parking by enjoying their special offer for a cocktail and an alcohol-infused cake. My editorial assistant had to sit and watch me eat and drink, since Slovakia has a zero mg/ml alcohol limit for driving. I don’t pity them too much though, since following me on my travels around the world is a pretty cool job.

The following day I tried something different – rafting down the Dunajec River Gorge, a little way to the east from where I was staying. The road there took me through Slovakia again, with many neat and pretty mountain villages and some nice views of the Tatras.

I stopped for lunch at a town on the river called Szczawnica back in Poland – don’t ask me how this pronounced, I am constantly amazed at the Polish language’s refusal to use vowels. This was the arrival point for the various rafting options and I ordered some more excellent local trout whilst watching the river traffic.

The most popular and famous option for visiting the gorge, recommended in all the guide books, is with a local rafting cooperative. Their rafts are large square constructions manned by two men dressed in traditional costume, who stand and steer the raft with poles. The raft has rows of seats for up to 25 tourists. These vessels move very slowly, and the people arriving looked rather bored, so instead I decided to hire a kayak and paddle myself.

I drove back to one of the hire companies I had seen at the approach to the town, and from there they took me in a mini-bus to a place 17km upstream where they kept their kayaks. I set off and paddled downstream, assisted by a gentle current.

It was good fun, even if the scenery was pleasant rather than spectacular. I liked the way that cliffs closed in on both sides of the river, even if this meant that the gorge was in the shade and it was hard to take good pictures. There are no real rapids in the gorge, but you still have to navigate carefully to avoid getting grounded in the shallow parts of the river. After three hours I had arrived back at the kayak base, with tired arms. I was also a bit wet, but my fur helped me keep warmer than the human tourists making the trip.

It had been a another good, but slightly lazy day. Back at my chalet I had some steak and got an early night in anticipation of some rather more strenuous hiking the next day.

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